


Put the Notion Away

by dreamlittleyo



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, First Kiss, M/M, Pining, Power Imbalance, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 16:38:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13791762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/pseuds/dreamlittleyo
Summary: Alexander Hamilton is a law student, struggling but making it work. George Washington is an adjunct professor and a goddamn distraction. Honestly, what else do you need to know?





	Put the Notion Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aidennestorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aidennestorm/gifts), [Face_of_Poe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Face_of_Poe/gifts).



> Part of a challenge with face_of_poe and aidennestorm (staying at/under 1000 words is NOT EASIER than 500, who would have guessed).
> 
> Prompt Words: Windfall, Path, Drug, Contradiction

Alexander is distracted when he finds the envelope.

No. That's not quite right. 

He's distracted when he literally trips on the damn thing directly in his path. Thank god there's no one to see him fall, at this ridiculous hour, on his empty street. Walking home from the law school library near midnight, it's like having the whole damn planet to himself.

It takes a moment to find what tripped him, obscured in shadows between sparse streetlights.

The envelope is thick, and Alexander opens it cautiously. He nearly has a heart attack when he sees how much fucking _cash_ is inside. A thick stack of hundred dollar bills. Hard to imagine what this could be. Car payment? Drug money? Mortgage?

He takes the envelope home.

It would be illegal to keep the money, but it's tempting when he looks around his ragged little studio apartment. When he thinks about next semester's textbooks, which his scholarship won't cover. When he glances at the rickety shelf that passes for his pantry. No one saw him find the envelope. If he's smart about it, no one would suspect.

The next morning, he stops at the police station and turns the money over.

Leaves his name, his contact info, but he's got no delusions about winning this particular jackpot. Ten grand in cash. There's no way the owner _won't_ come looking.

He survives what remains of his week without thinking about the money. E-Discovery. Advanced Criminal Procedure. Civil Dispute Resolution.

That last is simultaneously the best and worst of his classes. It's the reason he was preoccupied enough to trip on an envelope full of money. The class is taught by George Washington. Adjunct faculty, brilliant instructor, constant distraction. Unmarried. Alexander's had a problem since the very first day of class.

He's had crushes on professors before. This is different. This is _worse_. All the more so because sometimes Alexander senses that maybe his professor is just as fascinated with him.

Washington is never inappropriate. But sometimes he'll set a hand on Alexander's arm and leave it there. Will meet his eyes a beat too long. And then Alexander will wonder, and obsess, and spend hours telling himself he's imagining things.

He's focused enough today. For once he has no research questions, no arguments, no excuse to stay and monopolize Washington's time after class.

He's startled when Washington stops _him_ as the room clears. "Can I borrow a few minutes, Alexander?"

The office is a small space, practical and impersonal, shared by half a dozen adjuncts teaching on different schedules. Washington leaves the door open—he always leaves the door open when Alexander's in this office—and crosses his arms.

"You did a good thing." A smile quirks at one corner of Washington's mouth.

"I did?"

"The bank envelope you turned in."

Alexander blinks in surprise. "How can you possibly know about that?"

Washington's smile widens. "The money belonged to a client of mine. Escrow account. The admin who misplaced the funds has been fired, but that didn't get the money back. Imagine my surprise when I started canvassing police stations and learned the cash had been turned over almost immediately."

Alexander stares, barely noticing he's moved closer to Washington. "But how did you find out _I_ turned it in? That information's supposed to be confidential."

"Yes," Washington agrees. "But I'm very persuasive."

" _Why_ did you need to know who found the money?" Alexander presses, still confused.

"Because I wanted to thank them. Hadn't figured out how yet."

Alexander swallows. "And now that you know it was me?"

Washington offers a more rueful smile. "I'd still like to thank you somehow. But I find myself at even more of a loss than before."

And oh, it's stupid. He shouldn't. But Alexander hears himself blurt, "You could take me to dinner."

Washington's expression immediately blanks, and there's painful control in his voice when he says, "I don't think that would be appropriate."

Alexander's chest tightens.

"I'm sorry," he breathes, abruptly unable to meet Washington's eyes. "I didn't mean to— I just wanted— Please forget I said anything. I shouldn't have... _Fuck_." He's staring at the floor now, aware that he's digging himself deeper. Destroying any pretext that his suggestion _wasn't_ a proposition.

"Alexander—"

" _I'm sorry_ ," he repeats. Panic rings in his ears, and he's vaguely aware of the office door closing. Grateful no one will see him having a complete breakdown in Washington's office.

" _Alexander_ ," Washington says more forcefully. An instant later and strong hands are framing Alexander's face, forcing his head up, forcing eye contact. "I'm not offended."

"You're not?" Hamilton gasps.

"Never," Washington says with startling intensity. "And..."

Alexander stares, but Washington has cut himself short and seems disinclined to continue.

" _And_?" Hamilton prompts desperately.

"Never mind." Washington's touch disappears, but he doesn't step back. "It doesn't matter." He wears a different look now, guilty and guarded. As though he's struggling to rebuild whatever wall just came down.

The words—the expression—directly contradict Washington's lingering proximity.

Hamilton barely believes his own voice when he retorts, "All due respect, sir? But that's horse shit." Whatever Washington's not saying, it clearly _does_ matter.

Washington chokes a startled sound and stares at Hamilton with wide eyes.

"Tell me," Hamilton pleads.

The silence holds for a long time before Washington says, "You graduate next spring. You will no longer be my student. If you're still interested in my gratitude then, perhaps we can revisit this conversation."

 _Gratitude_. The word shivers down Hamilton's spine and leaves him breathless.

"Okay," he says.

And then, because impulse has gotten him this far, he closes the distance between them and kisses Washington. Just once. Long and slow, shaking with relief when Washington returns the kiss instead of pushing him away.

Only after does Washington step back, looking dazed and warm and hungry to continue.

"Get the hell out of my office, Alexander." The command is spoken with such fondness, it's impossible to mistake for rejection.

Alexander grins as he obeys.

**Author's Note:**

> I also hang out **[over on Dreamwidth](https://dreamlittleyo.dreamwidth.org/)** if that is a place anyone still goes. In the rare instance I'm inspired to post things that aren't fic--or participate in wider fandom happenings--that's where you'll find me. :D


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